


The First Time

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, M/M, naked comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little story about the first time john and Sherlock touched in a more than platonic manner. Nothing risqué.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts).



There were supposed to be words. There was supposed to be some kind of drawn out, or at least, drunken confession. Things were supposed to go in some perfect order where each of them showed a little more about how they cared and John cleared his throat and nodded and admitted he loved Sherlock. Sherlock was then supposed to blink a great deal and have trouble breathing. Nothing ever seemed to go right for them, even this.

_____

The night John moved back into 221b for good was the night a secret agency whisked away his wife, (no baby, by the way, yeah, that's a doozy) and the man was left alone. 

It was past eleven when John got under the spray of the hot shower and let it wash over him. He was fine, perfectly fine. He'd be okay. It was going to be like the good old days, just him and Sherlock...the two of them against the rest of the world. That would be, it was just...

The sobs shook his frame as he clenched his eyes closed to stave off the tears that were flowing down his face. He bit into his fist at the sound of a hand turning the doorknob.

"John?" Sherlock asked through the crack in the door.

"Mmm?" John replied shakily, understandably not trusting his own voice.

He was awaiting the dreaded words, 'are you okay?', when Sherlock started to strip on the other side of the shower curtain. The words never came. Instead Sherlock slipped into the shower behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist as he pressed his face to one shoulder. John was sure it was meant to calm but his body took the kindness as permission to become completely unhinged and he howled as more tears poured down his face.

He expected at that to have Sherlock back off, appalled by his continued weakness, and say something mollifying before leaving John to his grief. Sherlock held him tighter. And that was it. That was the first time they touched in a way that neither could pretend was 'friendly'. The first, but not the last.


End file.
